


No Longer A Shame In Admittance

by Asorenii



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare
Genre: Character Study almost, Horatio is a noble man, M/M, Self aware Hamlet, Tragic Romance, alternative ending, he understands the consequences of his actions for once, it's just angst, not royally he’s just a kind heart, original and added dialogue, probably a little ooc for the both of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:07:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26562634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asorenii/pseuds/Asorenii
Summary: Selfishly, Hamlet is glad that in his pathetic state of weakness, pain, and madness, that he does not stop Horatio from taking a sip from that damned goblet.Selfishly, he’s glad it opens the door for him to finally be honest without the future consequence of guilt.—The question of consequence never passes Horatio’s mind, joining his dying friend on the cold marble floor.The pick of two choices couldn’t have been clearer if it were glass.
Relationships: Hamlet & Horatio, Horatio/Hamlet
Comments: 6
Kudos: 42





	No Longer A Shame In Admittance

**Author's Note:**

> Suffer with me as I revisit a play where you can write angst and it still will not be as painful as the original.

There was a time and a place for reminiscing the past. Surely, in the arms of a lover was such a place. The warm, safe embrace, soft puffs of warm air to flushed cheeks was enough to lay silent, content, remembering the days past.  


Though the quiet murmurs of pain from Hamlet, a cold, white-knuckled grip on Horatio’s chemise- and the sweeping of blood from his arm and abdomen ruined the perfect imagery that could have been. 

The pale silver light of the moon broke through the windows of the castle, splitting apart as the panes of coloured glass obstructed its path, lending to a scatter of diluted stars spread out on the marble floor. A soft light catching on the bodies clutched together, Hamlet and his Horatio.  
  
The moonlight yet too, cast a glowing kiss to the bodies elsewhere strew on the floor. A room that reeked of death tragic, and death yet to be seen.  
  
The duel. Horatio had warned him, begged of him to find a solution that could have a promise to end differently, time before time, again and again before the other submit to his own insistence to duel Laertes. What for?

It was too foggy to remember, the aforementioned man laying dead less than two meters away, his sister buried just outside the castle walls. Hamlet then remembered his mother, dead, three meters away, cold and lifeless- the poisoned crystal goblet still half-full, rolled next to him and Horatio. And his uncle, the Bastard, slain in front of him, blood still dripping from his back. Hell he should be damned to. 

It was serene, almost. 

“Horatio,” Hamlet had managed, dropping to his knees in front of his friend. “I am dead.” He faltered, falling into the other’s arms, Horatio joining him on the ground, supporting the gangly limbs and head of the other gently, hand cupped behind his head and at the low of his back, offering firm pressure on his waist. There was a quiet cry of pain, swallowed by the man above him with a trembled coo of console.

Hamlet gazed up, catching the blurry, honeyed amber eyes of his friend, a weak hand going up to comb away the stray dark curls covering those eyes. Horatio had caught his hand, warm and tan against his own paling and cool skin. Nearly so warm it almost burned.

“You that, look pale,” Hamlet said softly, the usual merry flush gone from Horatio’s cheeks, instead replaced with an olive-cast look of anguish. “Tremble at this chance.”

Horatio listened closely, but with each word, Hamlet lost more mirth, eyes growing more grey. He placed Hamlet’s hand to his stomach and reached over to the goblet. “Never believe it, I am more an antique Roman than a Dane- here’s yet some liquor left,” He clutched the crystal goblet, bringing it to his lips. He’d only managed a weak swallow before it was ripped from his hands. Hamlet, with newfound passion, held it so tightly his skin went from white to red, knuckles pinkened from the force.

“Give me that cup! By heaven, let go- let me have’t.” Hamlet said, wheezing the last bit out before gulping down the last of the poisoned liquor. His actions faltered, however once the goblet fell from his hands- shattering on the floor. He'd chosen to die, to lay in the arms of the other. Equipped not, was he with the thought to force Horatio to join him. 

“Dear Horatio-“

Hamlet then noticed the sheen of his lips, the closeness of his face reeked of liquor. A moment of ice shot through his body, but to attribute it to fear or to the poison, Hamlet could not decide.

“You hadn’t-“  
  
A shameful murmur.

“I had, my lord.”

Horatio offered a sad smile. The vile liquid had burnt going down, and if half a sip was enough to kill the queen, a half gulp was more than plenty for himself. It was foolish, but to die side by side to Hamlet was a greater honour than to live with the guilt of death upon his hands. Hamlet gave a weak cry, a fist meeting plainly with Horatio’s chest.

“O! What a fool you are, Horatio. The poison meant for myself has now been spread to the only two who should have survived.”

Hamlet froze suddenly, his hands digging into Horatio's arm, and face greying before coughing. A wet splatter of blood on both their chests and the sharp gasp of pain from the Prince as he curled further into his friend.

“But with you joining me, there is no longer a shame of admittance.”

Hamlet croaked. Blinking upwards, his head tilted just so that he could watch Horatio through slowly closing eyes. 

“As the sky is blue, dear Horatio. Is the sky not the same colour to you? More grey or black, but always blue. Yet the same sky. As is my love. Whether I brashly admit as I am now, or as I denied behind the tapestry- ‘tis the same still.”

Hamlet relaxed more into Horatio’s lap, the other man holding himself up shakily, a hand in front of them both to prevent collapse. Horatio’s head hung low, forehead pressed to Hamlet’s.

“A love as blue as the sky, my lord? I dare to counter, a love as old as the sky for you. Without end, and without known beginning, yet is constant.”

His voice was shallow, a soft tremble to his words as his chest constricted. The throbbing burn of poison spread through his torso, a pain so great yet so calming- perhaps the latter being a byproduct of what he knew was to happen.  


Horatio’s hand shook, he pushed himself up only to roll back, landing on his side, face to Hamlet’s, weak arms tucked to his chest. For a moment Hamlet was still and Horatio feared he’d said too late. But the wheeze from the other- the last laugh Hamlet had always gotten- sounded quietly.

“You outdone me.”

Hamlet laid still, breaths quieter with each passing second.

Horatio held his own, fearing that if he were to breathe once more, he’d end up with one less than Hamlet.

“But I must- I mustn’t leave you without an answer. As this will no longer be either of our undoings, Horatio.”

Hamlet leant forward to ease a gentle kiss to the other’s lips. The pressure feather-light, the intent white-hot. The Prince pulled back shakily, dizzy eyes catching to Horatio's own wide ones.   


“Your answer, I fear, will go unheard,” he whispered, the Prince’s head staying up for a moment before the rest of his body fell limp, blue eyes finally greying and closing, head relaxing into Horatio's chest to rest finally. The last breath leaving his body. Horatio let go of his own, lips stinging from the final act of Hamlet.

“And now cracks a noble heart,”

He whispered, fingers intertwined with the cold ones of his friend, now gone.

“Goodnight, sweet prince. For an answer need not to be spoken. An action heavy in my heart, with purpose solely for you.” 

Horatio’s eyes were heavy, the shake outside of thunder the last of sounds he heard, the deep rumbling a gentle lull to rest.


End file.
